


Exit, pursued by a smacked bottom.

by ComfortingAngel



Category: Staged
Genre: Discipline, Gen, Humour, Not real person fic, Sexual Harassment, Spanking, naughty boys, self-parody, smacked bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComfortingAngel/pseuds/ComfortingAngel
Summary: A sequel to Staged featuring the warped alter-egos of Michael, David and Judi.... The play is on. Michael and David have been getting on well, but for a regular back and forth of various harmless pranks. David takes it too far on a night that Dame Judi Dench is in the audience. It appears he's very much gone the right way for a smacked bottom, so Judi takes him in hand.
Relationships: Judi Dench & David Tennant, Michael Sheen & David Tennant
Comments: 20
Kudos: 40





	Exit, pursued by a smacked bottom.

**Author's Note:**

> Look, the whole world’s on fire and I’ve been inside for 5 months, so here’s a short, absurd spanking story featuring Dame Judi Dench and David Tennant’s shorts. It’s based on Staged, where most of the cast ‘play themselves’, so the people you see here are the dark, gremlin versions of Michael, David and Judi that they happily presented to us for shits and giggles. It is not meant to misrepresent the real life characters of the actors. Probably. Any hotness is entirely coincidental. 

There was an awkward silence backstage that night after the curtain had come down. Footfalls echoed in the theatre corridors before the world's most famous voice called out, ' What the _hell_ was that all about?'

Dame Judi Dench had swept into David Tennant's dressing room, where he was having a perfectly good argument with Michael. David was back in his perennial hoody and favourite denim shorts. Michael was still exceptionally hairy for some reason.

'David put shaving cream in my shoes!' exclaimed Michael dramatically, grey curls bobbing along.

'So that's why you were sliding all over place like a new born colt?' She turned to glare at David, eyes murderous. 

'He put shaving cream in my coffee!' explained David feebly.

'Your coffee wasn’t on stage, though, was it?' came Judi's harsh tone.

'No,' said David, shifting on his feet. 'But a more professional actor wouldn’t have let it affect his performance.' He leered at Michael. 

'My feet were _squelching_!' said Michael. 'And you knew I’d slip during that sharp turn!' 

'No I didn’t! I didn’t think you’d…'

Judi cut in. 'David John Tennant, you didn’t think at all!' 

‘Ha!’ said Michael, making his best ‘told you so’ smug face of mockery. David simmered at him. 

‘Michael, would you give us a minute,’ said Judi, with an ominous calm.

Michael smirked. ‘Can’t I watch?’

She gave Michael a deadly look which made him leave very quickly, closing the door behind him (though not without flashing his eyes at a very nervous looking David). 

Judi turned and looked at the skulking Scot. 

'I told you you were going the right way for a smacked bottom,' she said coolly. 

'Judi - I’m sorry, it got out of control. I didn’t think it would interfere with his performance or I wouldn’t have done it.' He'd begun to inch away.

Judi started to remove her coat. 'Pranks are all well and good but you never compromise a performance, as you well know. You let your audience down tonight. And yourself.' 

David looked crestfallen. His lower lip almost wobbled.

She went over to a small couch and sat down. ‘Come here.’

'What? You’re not really going to...?'

‘I said  _ come here _ .’ She patted her lap. 

Eyes wide, David took a step towards her, hoping she’d burst out laughing at any minute and tell him it was fine. She did not.

‘Um. Judi?’

‘Now, David.’

‘I’m a foot taller than you!’

‘David John Tennant! Do as you’re told!’

He scurried over and set about draping his long form over her lap (and the entire length of the couch). He felt ridiculous. Someone  _ must _ be filming this. Georgia, probably.

‘I ought to take these down,’ said Judi, firmly holding him in place. ‘But I don’t want to be embroiled in another scandal, so…’

‘WHAT?’ asked David, but her hand smacked down hard, and continued to at a hellish pace. The shorts provided very little protection.  He screeched and howled as the room filled with the sharp sounds of a bottom being smacked, albeit over denim shorts. 

'Ow ow ow!' he yelped shamelessly. Judi did not relent. 

‘You do not get to desecrate centuries of theatrical tradition just to get at your cast mate,' she scolded. 'You’re a disgrace to the profession. Stop. Fucking. About!’

David screamed as she punctuated her last three words with three vicious slaps. 

Outside, Michael’s ear was pressed up against the dressing room door so hard it hurt, but the joy on his face was a picture. He was listening to David whimpering, and hadn't heard Jo arrive.

‘What’s happening?’ asked Jo.

‘She’s _smacking_ him,’ said Michael, with an intense, spiteful pleasure. 

'Who is?'

'Judi!'

‘Oh god, that’s… illegal.' 

‘Who cares?!’

The door swung open and Michael fell flat on his face. Judi, still calm and collected, pulled on her coat, leaned down and whacked him on the backside, sending a loud 'thwack' reverberating around the corridor. Jo flinched.

‘Ow!’ yelled Michael. His grey curls bobbed again.

‘These two little shits…’ muttered Judi, sweeping away imperiously. As she did, Simon appeared and flattened himself against the wall to get out of her way. 

‘What happened?’ he asked, approaching the scene.

‘Judi Dench spanked David,’ whispered Jo, incredulous.

‘Oh,' he said, quite impressed.

Jo looked at him with disdain. 

‘And me,’ said Michael, struggling to his feet and rubbing his bottom with a grimace. 

‘Right,’ said Jo. ‘Well maybe all the stupid pranks will stop now. I’m going to the bar.’

Michael peered around the dressing room door to see David on the sofa, sulking.

‘Who’s a naughty boy?’ teased Michael.

‘Oh fuck off,’ said David.

Michael grinned and plonked down next to him. ‘Seriously, though. You okay?’

David winced. ‘Yeah. Just... strong hands for a small woman.’

‘Yeah I know. She got me too.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yeah,’ said Michael. He appeared to think about it for a moment, with just the suggestion of a sordid smile, which David tried not to notice.

‘Michael, is this assault?’

‘No. It’s Judi Dench. She likes keeping naughty boys in order. It’s not like she doesn’t warn us.’

‘Right. Well, that’s true.’

They both stared into space for a moment. 

'Sorry about the shaving cream,' said David.

Michael took a good long look at him. 'There's a line, David. And you crossed it.'

'I know.'

'It was very bad.'

There was another silence. 

‘Battleship?’ suggested David meekly.

'It will take several games to clear this one.'

‘Yeah. Okay. As long as it’s standing up,’ mumbled David. 


End file.
